


The Fond Heart Remembers What the Focused Mind Forgets

by ideliagirl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But Turns Out to be Real, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, The Starks Ship It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-01 16:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11490297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideliagirl/pseuds/ideliagirl
Summary: Sansa is a grad-student up for a prestigious fellowship, but is told she'll only get it if she's in a relationship.After she decides not to run to HR for that flagrant bias, she decides to get a fake boyfriend.The only person she can think of for the part is Jon Snow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another fake boyfriend story. But why do we fight it? We all know it's what we want!
> 
> I'm plotting some deep dark in my current story, The Black Night, and needed some light-hearted frivolity.

Sansa was with three of her colleagues in the university museum’s restoration room, examining a parchment from The Avignon Papacy, when her doctoral advisor, Brienne Tarth, came in without a word and grabbed her elbow, trying to pull her into a corner.

“Okay……….” Sansa dropped the document to the table as carefully as she could—given she was being yanked—and followed her. “that was from the 14th century!”

“Nobody cares.” Brienne waved her hand toward the table dismissively and shook her head at Sansa. “Take those off!” She ordered, referring to Sansa’s magnifying glasses still on her nose. “You look like something out of MAD magazine.”

“Well,” Sansa began calmly, taking off the glasses. “I’m not sure you noticed as you were practically dragging me away by my hair, but I was in the middle of something.”

“This is more important.”

“More important than a seven-hundred-year-old document concerning the popes living in France instead of Rome?” Sansa huffed amusedly. “How did you become the second-highest faculty member in the highest-ranked school of history in the nation?”

“By kissing the ass of the _highest_ faculty member.” Brienne smirked and nodded encouragingly. “And he wants to meet you.”

“Dr. Selmy?” Sansa’s eyes widened. “How does he even know my name?”

“From your fellowship application.”

“Brienne?” Sansa began with a hint of warning. “I didn’t _fill out_ a fellowship application!”

“Oh, that?” Brienne shrugged. “Yeah, I did that for you.”

“How could you do—“

“You’re the strongest doctoral candidate in the whole program!” Brienne interrupted. “I couldn’t just sit back and let some nimrod get the fellowship simply because you decided on your own that you needed another year under your belt!”

“But I only changed my focus two years ago, and I didn’t even get my bachelors at this university!” Sansa replied, restating what she’d told Brienne when she declined the recommendation that she apply. “I wanted to have a stronger footing before I undertook something that could potentially make or break _my entire career_!”

“Sansa.”

Sansa cradled her forehead in her hand. “This is a nightmare.”

“It’s not a nightmare.” Brienne pulled Sansa’s hand away and squeezed it in her own. “He’ll love you. He’s already read a sampling of your papers and found them to be _enlightened and original_. His words, Sansa.” Brienne smiled and quirked her eyebrow. “And now that the only caveat he ever sees about any of his fellows has been resolved for you, it’s the right time for this to happen.”

“Okay,” Sansa took a deep breath and grinned. “You’re right. It’s an amazing opportunity.”

Sansa heard her phone chime and distractedly removed it from her pocket.

**J Snow: Hey, Sans. I’m working from home for the rest of the day, so anytime you wanna drop off the auto-belay, harness, and carabiners, that Arya left for you to get back to me—I’m free as a bird.**

“Fantastic!” Brienne clapped excitedly. “I’ll tell Selmy.”

“Wait.” Sansa looked back up at Brienne, confusion on her face. “What’s the caveat that’s now been resolved?”

“Oh,” Brienne shrugged nonchalantly. “Barristan likes for those under him to be in relationships.”

Sansa shook her head in disbelief. “What?! He takes _personal information_ into consideration when he chooses his fellows?” She put her hand on her hip. “That’s so wrong!”

“And yet he’s the head of a distinguished department and everyone wants something from him, so no one ever says anything.”

“Well…well that’s just…I mean…...” Sansa began to sputter. “Maybe someone should!”

“Not someone who wants the nation’s most prestigious doctoral history fellowship.” Brienne cocked her head to the side. “Barristan almost had a nervous breakdown when his first marriage fell apart because he spent all hours of the day locked away researching and couldn’t balance work with personal. He views his fellows being in relationships as a sign that they can balance all aspects of life.” She shrugged and nudged Sansa’s shoulder. “Not the _fairest of views_ …..but what does it matter? You have a boyfriend now!”

Except, yeah…….she didn’t anymore. Harry had broken up with her after only two months because she didn’t pay enough attention to him and couldn’t balance her personal life with her work.

In all fairness, she didn’t feel like investing much in the relationship. Not with someone who told her what she did for a living was boring, didn’t want to listen to her speak about her life’s passion, and thought her dissertation was called The _Hustle_ Movement’s Influence on Prague’s Present Culture—instead of the correct _Hussite_ Movement.

She wasn’t trying to be a snob, and she realized not everyone knew about history, but she listened to him drone on about his guerilla-marketing company, and he couldn’t even be bothered to accurately name of one of the most _important things she’ll ever undertake in her entire life_?

And how did Brienne not know she was single again? Oh yeah, even though she saw her _every day_ , and Brienne was basically her best friend in the department, Sansa hardly ever spoke about anything but their work.

Maybe Selmy had a point about balancing work and personal.

“Ummm…….” Sansa bit her lip.

“Anyway, you both better be free tonight,” Brienne started back toward the door. “Selmy wants you to be at the faculty dinner he’s having at his house. Eight PM, 219 W. Rose Ave, off University Blvd. Sit down dinner following cocktails, dress code is jacket and tie. I’ll email you all that info again.” Brienne stopped before she left the room. “Oh, and I don’t think I even know your boyfriend’s name.”

Sansa’s head was spinning, her mouth dry and hanging open. Her phone chimed again and she dazedly looked at it in her hand.

**J Snow: Sans? Let me know you got this. Free for the rest of the day.**

“Jon.” Sansa gulped, plastering on a fake smile. “His name is Jon Snow.”

**S Stark: Yeah, I got you. I’ll be by at seven tonight.**

 

Jon answered his front door in his t-shirt and jeans soon after Sansa knocked. She actually wished he would’ve given her a few more moments to gather her courage. Although, if her courage hadn’t been gathered during the car ride over, it never would be.

He smiled brightly and genuinely at her. Everything Jon did was genuine. Not like her. The big lying liar.

“Hey, Sans.” He rubbed his palms together and looked her over head to toe, taking in her dress and heels, her styled hair and make-up. “You look real nice. Big date?”

“Um, sort of.” She bit her lip nervously and fidgeted from one foot to the other. “I have your stuff.”

He glanced uncertainly over her shoulder towards her car parked in front of his house. “Okay. Is it in your car?”

“I can’t tell you where it is.” She took a deep breath and held up her palms. “I’m holding your stuff hostage.”

Jon chuckled and leaned back against the door. “I’m used to the weird Stark daughter being _Arya_ …..but okay.” He pointed back to his foyer. “Come inside.”

She followed him in and he closed the door behind her. She glanced around the house and absorbed all that made it quintessentially Jon Snow’s.

Old hockey stick, framed posters of both Star Wars and The Maltese Falcon, comfortably-worn leather sofa, bookcase filled with not only professional engineering books—but literature books of all kinds (including Pride and Prejudice, which she had given him for his birthday), and drafting table set up by the window to use the good natural light. Echoing through the apartment were the original vinyl tracks of Tattoo You by The Rolling Stones (a copy of which _he_ had given her for _her_ birthday).

He motioned for her to sit on the sofa and crossed his arms. “What are your terms for the release of my climbing equipment?”

“This is embarrassing.” She exhaled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been put up for this prestigious fellowship in my department and it’s a great opportunity.”

He grinned widely. “That’s great. No one deserves it more.”

Naturally, he would say that. She doesn’t know if that makes her feel better or worse about what she’s strong-arming him into doing for her. “Thanks.”

He raised a brow. “Still don’t really know what that has to do with me or my stuff.”

“The head of the department—he’s brilliant, but kind of stodgy—he wants his fellows to have well-balanced lives, so he wants them to be in relationships.”

“Kind of personally invasive.” Jon nodded, looking to the floor. “But I’m guessing that’s where I come in.”

“Yeah, he’s hosting a dinner and told my advisor to invite me and my significant other.” Sansa looked to her shaking hands in her lap. “I was getting your texts when I got word of the dinner. My advisor knew I had a boyfriend, but she didn’t know we’d broken up, and when she asked my boyfriend’s name, I just panicked and said yours.”

“Sansa.”

“And I know I could just bring someone else and say it was Jon Snow. But how? Given the way I panicked, I’m obviously a terrible liar. And who? Not Robb or Bran—they’re my brothers, and even pretending, that would be gross.”

“Sansa.”

“Not any of my male friends, either. Not Tyrion—he’s on faculty and they know him. Not Podrick—he’s as bad a liar as me and would be bright red if he pretended to be my boyfriend. Not Loras—he’s just astoundingly, flamboyantly gay. Not Theon—I’d rather die.” She sucked in a trembling breath. “So that just leaves you, and I know that’s unfair and you’ll probably hate—“

“Sansa!!”

She looked up at his shout, not realizing she’d been rambling. “What?”

He gave her a friendly wink. “I didn’t say no.”

“Oh.” She gulped and narrowed her eyes. “Oh….really?”

He shrugged. “Well, you used my name. And I can’t very well have anyone else out there, pretending to be me.” He sat next to her on the sofa and smirked. “And I can’t let my climbing equipment remain your hostage. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night thinking of the kind of torture you might be submitting them to.”

“Jon, that’s just—“ She smiled back and chewed on her lip. “That’s nicer than I deserve.”

“Aww, that’s not true.” He patted her on the knee, the feel of his warm hand on her bare skin sending a tingle up her spine. “When is this thing?”

She grimaced. “Forty-five minutes.”

He quirked a brow and stood. “Cutting it kind of close, aren’t we?”

“Well,” she quirked a brow as well. “I hoped if you knew I didn’t have time to find an alternative, that would greater increase the odds that you couldn’t say no.”

He laughed good-naturedly as he ran up his stairs. “You’re sneaky and underhanded.”

“I grew up with four siblings,” she also laughed good-naturedly, shouting after him. “If I wasn’t sneaky and underhanded, I wouldn’t have ever got what I wanted!”

 

 

They walked through the doors of Professor Selmy’s large and historically-preserved townhouse at five minutes past eight, the chords of piano music wafting through the air. In just the first minute since they’d stepped through the door, Sansa could count six of her professors, not including Brienne. She took a shaky breath.

“You’ll be fine.” Jon whispered, putting his hand on the small of her back. “Just be yourself. If you do that, they’ll all see how brilliant you are, and then your Doctor Selmy would be a fool not to pick you.”

She gazed over at him, visibly calmer. “Thank you, Jon.” She pointed over to two people at the fireplace, who waved and began walking over. “The couple walking over are my advisor, Brienne Tarth, and her husband, Tormund.”

Brienne stopped before them, grinning widely. “This must be Jon.”

“It is.” Sansa smiled, putting her hand on Jon’s arm. “Jon, this is Brienne Tarth.”

Jon held out his hand. “Dr. Tarth.”

Brienne shook it. “Brienne, please.” She winked at Sansa. “I’m excited to get to know you, but I feel I must warn you—you’ll have to be damn remarkable for me to consider you worthy of Sansa.”

Jon laughed amiably. “Well, I assure you, even if you find me remarkable—I’m still not worthy of her.”

Brienne linked her arm with the tall ginger-haired man beside her. “This rascal is my husband, Tormund.”

“Lovely to finally meet you, Tormund.” Sansa shook the hand he offered.

“Yes,” his naturally raspy voice replied. “my girl speaks of you so fondly, I can’t believe we haven’t already.”

“Sansa speaks of you as well, Brienne.” Jon interjected politely. “How was your trip to Cyprus?”

Sansa’s jaw dropped. _He remembers me talking about Brienne’s visit to Cyprus?_

Brienne’s eyes widened. “It went well, thank you. The Tomb of Kings in Paphos is very well-preserved.”

Someone called for Brienne from the other side of the room and she took Tormund’s hand before looking to Sansa. “We’ll catch up later.” She gestured her head toward Jon and leaned close to Sansa’s ear. “I _love him_.”

When they were alone again, Sansa let out a short giggle and smiled at Jon. “Okay, you are already killing it.”

Jon looked to his clothes. Jacket and tie with tan pants. “I hope my khakis are okay. I wasn’t expecting it to be this swanky.”

“No, you’re fine.” Sansa nodded admiringly. “You look great actually.”

He let out a low breath. “You look fantastic, too.”

“Really?” She smoothed her hand down her jade-green dress. “I should’ve worn my blue outfit.”

“NO!” He almost shouted, before calming quickly and stuttering. “I mean…that is….you look great. I’ve always said you look lovely in green.”

“Really?” She quirked a brow. “Who have you said this to?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” Jon rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “Maybe just myself.” He pointed to her shoulders and moved behind her. “I think I’ll go hang up our coats.”

He helped her remove her light trench coat and the back of his hand lightly grazed against her neck. She inhaled sharply, butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the touch. “Okay,” She replied softly, pointing into the dining room to a hunched-over old man. “The incredibly-dull Dr. Pycelle is waving to me. I’ll spare you his company and go over by myself.”

Jon nodded and that was the last she saw of him for twenty whole minutes.

 

 

When ‘Windbag Pycelle’ (as others called him) was done talking her ear off, she searched for Jon, but came up empty. She got them both cocktails as she waited for him to reappear, but kept waiting. Finally, she thought to look for him in the kitchen and found him laughing and chatting amiably next to a classically beautiful woman with snow-white hair, wearing a black sheath dress and a single strand of pearls.

Jon finally noticed Sansa in the doorway. “Hey, there she is!”

The woman smiled at Sansa, then looked back to Jon. “Is this your Sansa?”

Sansa answered the woman herself as she put the two drinks on the counter. “Yes, I am.”

“Your boyfriend and I have been having the nicest chat.” She held out her hand for Sansa and warmly grasped it with her other when Sansa took it. “I’m Ashara Dayne-Selmy, Barristan’s wife.”

“Oh,” Sansa smiled widely. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s such a godsend that Jon and I got to talking because he told me you’re allergic to mushrooms.”

Sansa blinked, noticing a large wood chopping block on the counter covered in lettuce. “Yes, yes I am.”

Ashara followed Sansa’s line of sight and gestured to the block and knives beside it, giggling slightly. “Jon and I have been making you a salad. Seeing as the mushroom-barley soup I made for the first course would have sent you to the hospital.”

Jon laughed along with her. “Nothing like anaphylactic shock to ruin a dinner party.”

“I thank you both.” Sansa chuckled and nodded to the two glasses she’d put down on the counter. One of them a tumbler. “I got us drinks, Jon. You’re an old-fashioned, right?”

“I am.” Jon grinned, gesturing to two glasses he’d ordered for them while she was talking to Pycelle. They were placed on the opposite end of the counter and were identical to the pair she brought in. The other of them was a wine glass. “I got us drinks too. You’re a riesling, aren’t you?”

She smiled, a warmth flooding her chest. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

 

 

“So, tell me, Mr. Snow,” Dr. Barristan Selmy looked kindly at Jon over the lit candelabra on the dining table. “Do you have an interest in history?”

Jon wiped a napkin over his mouth and placed it back in his lap. “Not naturally. But when you have someone in your life who’s so passionate about it, you become ‘ _interested by osmosis’_ , I guess you could say.” He looked over to a chuckling Sansa. “I certainly know all about the Hussites, that’s for sure.”

_What? How did he…….? Wait, he knows that? Hell, he even said it right._

“Yes!” Selmy clapped once excitedly. “Excellent insights she has on the subject. Even the first few drafts of her paper have amazing potential.”

Sansa put down her fork and smiled gratefully. Both at Selmy and at Jon. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“She’s truly got a passion for history. And such an absorptive mind.” Jon praised, shaking his head in wonderment. “Even when she’s not working, she searches for it. No vacations of sitting around in cabanas at beach resorts for her. If there are no geographical, architectural, or historical attractions to see—she’s bored out of her mind.”

_Jon sat with me and listened as I showed him all the photos from my trips to Europe. All the monuments, heritage sites, churches, palaces, ruins……. Jon knows this about me. And doesn’t try to make me feel weird about it. Unlike Harry, who got mad at me when I shot down his idea that we go on a five day booze-cruise to Cabo for what would have been our only trip together._

“And what do you do for a living, Jon?” Ashara asked, kind eyes shining.

“I’m a wind-turbine engineer.”

Everyone at the table froze, the only movement their blinking eyes.

Sansa thought to even the score on knowing one’s partner, and she clarified for them. “He builds windmills for renewable energy.”

“Do you really?” A genuine smile formed on Selmy’s face and he sat back in his chair. “Well, that is just remarkable.”

“And do you enjoy it?” Ashara’s warm voice inquired.

“I do, ma’am.”

_Ma’am. Leave it to my Jon to be so polite. Yeah……okay…….MY Jon?_

“So, if I told you not to go tilting at windmills…….” Brienne teased from the other end of the table.

Jon laughed. “You would not be the first person to tell me that.”

“Jon went to climb the German Alps last spring and stopped in Denmark for two weeks to study their network.” Sansa placed her hand on Jon’s arm. “Denmark has the highest proportion of wind power in the world.”

Jon looked to her in shock, smiled warmly and then stuttered a continuation. “It’s truly the wave of the power-source future.” He pointedly looked at Selmy at the end of the table. “Dr. Selmy, in the history of civilized humanity, we’ve only been using coal and petroleum for what, two hundred years?”

Selmy nodded. “If even that, young man.”

“Well, we’ll soon be out of both. And most agree it’s hurt the planet we live on.”

Sansa proudly spoke up. “He’s been part of the group urging congress to pledge more funds to wind and solar energy.” She took a sip of her drink. “He’s also volunteered time in Chile to help with their turbine array.”

Jon laughed. “In all fairness, I also did that so I could go climb the Andes.”

“Do _you_ climb as well, Sansa?” Ashara beamed at her.

“Gods, no!” Sansa snorted automatically. She then looked around the table, embarrassed at the outburst.

“She’s afraid of heights. So I’ve tethered myself to a non-climber. If I’m allowed to make a tiny pun.” Jon chuckled and patted her on the shoulder comfortingly. “I promised I’d show her around the wind farms in Denmark and Holland, she promised she’d show me around Charles Bridge, the Astronomical Clock, and Prague Castle—but no Alps, I’m afraid.”

“Jon’s going with you on your next trip to Europe?” Brienne smiled excitedly.

Sansa looked to Jon with genuine fondness. “I would love to take him.”

“Well, she wants to take pictures of herself next to all the spires in Prague. And in the three times she’s been, she’s only done about fifty spires……..is that right, Sans?”

“Fifty-four.” Sansa laughed in amazement.

“Well, Prague is _The City of a Thousand Spires_. And some of them are pretty high. If she wants to do all of them, and she’s afraid of heights? She’ll need someone to keep her from falling.” Jon took her hand and twined it with his. “Who better than a climber?”

Sansa smiled, seeing Jon in a brand-new light. “Who indeed.”

 

 

 

“I think Selmy loved you.” Jon told her from the passenger seat as she drove them back to his house. “The fellowship is as good as yours.”

“Well, they all certainly loved _you_.” She laughed in return. “If I looked good tonight, it was partly by association.”

He scoffed appreciatively. “You don’t need any association to look good.”

She gripped the steering wheel, looked straight ahead at the road and steeled herself. “Jon, how did you know my dissertation was on the Hussite movement?”

“Uh,” he pondered a moment. “You talked about it at the barbeque a few months back. I wasn’t sure I got the word right, so I asked Robb.” He laughed to himself. “Once I knew it was ‘Hussite’, it was easy to Google it.”

“You mean as you were getting ready to come tonight?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Months ago.”

“You Googled something……..just because of _me_?”

“Yeah, of course.” He anxiously ran a hand through his curls. “Sans, did you really remember all that stuff about me?”

“What stuff?”

“About the wind farms and Denmark….Chile…… climbing……congress.”

“Yeah. I guess I did.” Sansa smiled softly in amazement, raising a brow. “And you remember me talking about Prague?”

“Yeah.” Jon nodded with the same amazement. “Every word.”

“How do we remember all these things about each other?”

“I guess……it could be……” he took a deep breath. “I like talking to you.” He looked at her meaningfully. “I like listening to you.”

They reached his house and she pulled up to the curb, shutting off the engine. She turned in her seat to face him fully. “I do too, Jon.”

 

 

It was too early. She was too exhausted. Somebody shut off that damn noise.

She came awake slowly and blinked her eyes, but slapped her hand down on the nightstand without looking in an attempt to find the source of the infernal chiming.

Finding it, she brought the phone to her ear. “What?”

“Well,” Brienne’s voice chuckled on the other end. “good morning to you, too.”

“Brienne, I know it’s better for my career if I’m nice to you.” Sansa huffed, pulling the covers back over her head. “But you better get to the point of why you’re calling very quickly.”

Brienne chuckled again. “You got it.”

“Got what?”

“Boy, you really _did_ just wake up.” Brienne tutted. “You got _the fellowship_. Selmy loved you. We’ll all meet to fill out the paperwork on Monday.”

Sansa shot straight up in bed. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. After last night, you were a certainty.” Brienne’s voice took on a serene quality. “I’ve never seen you like that, Sansa. So confident…….so _complete_.”

Sansa grinned and dropped back to the pillows. “Thank you, Brienne. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sansa hung up and staggered out of bed to the bathroom. She stood before the mirror and smiled widely, despite her mussed appearance—tangled hair and swollen lips.

She pulled off the shirt she’d slept in and smiled again at the small, slight bruises on her hips and upper thighs.

She took a deep breath and for once, she didn’t feel the slight undercurrent of anxiety that always ran through her. Balance. Maybe this was what balance felt like. It was a new feeling for sure.

She pulled back the shower curtain.

“Hey,” she smirked. “Brienne just called. I got the fellowship.”

“Of course, you did.” Through the steam, a wet and gloriously naked Jon Snow turned to her, smirking back sexily. “Now, are you gonna stand there? Or are you gonna get in?”

“Oh, I’m getting in.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb's Point of View.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to expand on this story. But I had an idea to do chapters about all the Starks & Assorted Scoundrels realizing the extent of Jon and Sansa's feelings for each other.
> 
> Let me know if this is a good idea!
> 
> Hastily written as I baby-sat an applicant in a testing room for two hours. All mistakes are mine!

This just…………comes from out of nowhere. And it’s weird.

Okay, so Jon and Sansa aren’t exactly strangers. And they always have smiles on their faces whenever they’re around each other…………

But in love? They’re _in love_? And Sansa’s given her landlord notice, since she ‘ _spends every night at Jon’s house anyway’_?

It’s like they’re a couple—they ARE a couple. Just a couple that nobody knew about it until they were already……… _coupled._ Because they were together for FIVE weeks before they told anyone!

 

_“Five weeks, Sans?” Robb shook his head in disappointment from across the kitchen table. “You lied to us for FIVE weeks?”_

_“Not LIED, Robb.” She chewed on her lip in an attempt to hide a smile. “We just didn’t tell you. And nobody asked—“_

_“Of COURSE nobody asked!” His voice rose and he stood suddenly, chair rasping against the floor as he pushed it back. “What would we have said? ‘Hey Jon, are you shacking up with my sister?’……or maybe……’Hey Sans, by any chance are you getting it on the regular from my college roommate?’—“_

_“Robb, you need to stop being crude.” She told him firmly, resolute and level-headed in her chair. “And stop acting like Jon and me finding happiness with each other is an affront to you. Yes, I am your little sister. Yes, he is your best friend and college roommate—“_

_“Who our family practically adopted after he started coming home with me on school breaks!” He interrupted._

_She kept going, ignoring him. “But we are our own people, have our own lives, feel our own feelings. And YOU do not come into consideration when we grab on to something we both want,” She smiled softly, serenely up at him. “something that makes us both happy.”_

_He calmed instantly, just seeing that look on her face, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just—you’re telling us that something’s already happened. And we didn’t get to be there as it was happening.” He walked to her side of the table and sat on its edge, taking her hand. “And that’s just weird for us because we’ve been there for virtually everything else that happens in your lives.”_

_“So……..no one’s stopping you from being there now.” She tugged slightly on his hand. “We were going to The Brick Grill for dinner—come with us!”_

_All he could do was nod._

And now here he is. And it’s weird.

Not gross or unnatural. But like that episode of _The Twilight Zone_ —where for twenty-nine minutes the aliens are talking about a book they’ve written called _How to Serve Humanity_ , but in the last minute all the clues come together, and you realize the book is about how to best cook, carve, and serve humanity _for dinner_.

Or it’s like looking at one of those squiggly-line posters—where if you look at it hard enough you’re supposed to see a boat or panda bears, only you _never see it_ ……..until one day you walk by it on your way to the kitchen and BOOM. Panda Bears!

It’s freakin’ Bruce Willis in _The Sixth Sense_.

Sansa and Jon are _nice_. Of course, they are. They are both nice people. But it’s weird for them to be nice as _Sansa and Jon._

They sit side by side in a booth with Robb across from them and Jon puts his arm around Sansa as she reads the menu, his finger pointing to an item at the top of the second page. “Hey, they have lemoncakes!” He grins, nudging her side teasingly. “Gee, I wonder if anyone at this table is going to be having dessert?”

“And I can count on you to eat the sun-dried tomatoes I don’t want from off my pizza?” She grins back, before putting her forehead on his shoulder.

“Of course. As long as there’s no--”

“No goat cheese on them.” Sansa teases, a lilt to her voice. “Yes, I know. Grown man—afraid of goat cheese.”

“Cheese should come from _cows_!” He looks to both of them. “I can’t be the only one who feels this way.”

“I know, sweetling.” Sansa fake-pouts at him. “I’d never knowingly subject you to the big bad _non-cow_ cheese.”

Jon reaches over her to take a sip of her margarita. “And I’ll leave you the crispiest of my fries.”

She hmms. “I love those crispy fries!”

Robb stares blankly at the scene before him. He blinks rapidly when someone says his name.

“Robb?” Sansa’s voice cuts through his haze. “What are you gonna have?

“Burger.” He answers simply.

They all talk easy enough. They always have. But there is an underlying…… _something_ , that wasn’t there before. It's like they're…… _grown-ups_.

That might not be the right word. But with both of them—Sansa studying for her PhD and learning language after language, Jon getting his engineering degree and trying to save the planet one windmill at a time, all the while climbing higher and higher summits—it was always like they were _works in progress_ , both striving towards what they haven’t achieved yet.

It’s not like that anymore. Robb knows they’ll never give up their passions, or sit back and be idle. That’s just not who either of them are. But they seem to be enjoying _the present_ for the first time in their lives—rather than concentrating solely on the future.

Something pulls him from his thoughts. “Wait?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Sans…..you’re gonna _climb a mountain_? You don’t even like to go up to the third floor of Grandpa’s river house.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just a low summit. Not even 1700ft. You might not even call it a mountain—more like a…….mountlet.”

Jon chokes on his beer, chuckling at her before turning back to Robb. “We’ve been climbing the rock wall at the university gym. She’s getting good.”

“As long as I remember to not look down!”

“She’ll be a pro by the time we’re in Germany.” Jon rubs her back. “But I’ll be with her the whole climb.”

“Germany?” Robb narrows his eyes.

“Yeah.” Jon nods. “On our way to Prague. It’s Mount Oybin in Saxony, part of the Zittau mountains. It’s a good elevation for a beginner. And………I chose it for us because there are medieval ruins of a castle and monastery there.” Jon lightly kisses her temple. “Can’t let any history go un-explored with my girl.”

Robb raises his brow this time. “And Jon’s going with you to Prague?”

Jon answers Robb instead, gazing into Sansa’s eyes. “Ano. Budeme trakit tyden, zatimco zathouma na Univerzite Karlove.”

“Ano. Budeme _travit_ tyden, zatimco _zkouma_ na Univerzite Karlove.” Sansa corrects gently, her palm cupping his jaw. “But you were close, baby.”

“Ahh,” Jon shakes his head in discouragement. “I’m still slurring my consonants.”

“Well,” Sansa runs a hand through the curls on his forehead. “at least you’re not confusing the word for ‘ _hello_ ’ with the word for ‘ _fork_ ’ anymore.”

Jon smirks back at her. “Why yes, that _is_ something to be proud of.”

“You’re learning Czech?” Robb sits in utter disbelief.

“Yes.” Sansa answers for Jon this time. “As he was saying, we’re gonna be spending a week in Prague while I do some research at Charles University. It’ll be nice to finally show him all the places I’m always talking about.”

“And there’s a wind farm in North Holland that’s put in a three-day job order for an engineer with my firm. I took the assignment.” Jon twines Sansa’s fingers with his own. “So, we’ll stop there first and hopefully the tulips will be in bloom in the fields around the turbines.”

Sansa smiles widely. “He’s even gonna take me to work with him one of those days.” She shrugs happily. “I’ll wear the hard hat and everything!”

Robb chuckles at them both and looks to Jon. “Just you watch. She’ll come back wanting to study to be an engineer.”

Sansa playfully furrows her brow and looks to Jon as well. “Do engineers have to do math?”

Jon laughs loudly and winks. “Just a little.”

“Then, no thank you.”

 

 

Sansa goes to the restroom. Jon and Robb sit at the table in silence. And it’s weird.

Finally, the ice breaks. “Five weeks?” Robb questions, his tone neutral.

Jon winces, putting his elbow on the table and forehead in his hand. “It was selfish of us. We know.” He sits back and scrubs the hand through his hair. “We just, we……….just wanted it to be us for a while.”

“Did you think we couldn’t handle it?” Robb shakes his head. “Because I gotta tell you, the thing we’re all pissed about is that you kept it from us.”

“No, it wasn’t that.” Jon quirks his lip, a wondrous glint in his eye. “It just hit us like a tsunami—what we’d somehow always felt, what we should have realized _long before we did_ —and we just wanted to make up for all the time we lost being _complete idiots_. We wanted to know everything about each other, spend every moment together. Not to mention we couldn’t keep _our hands_ off each…………“

Jon trails off apprehensively when he sees Robb’s hand clenching his beer glass so tight it could break. Robb quirks a brow. “You were saying about you and _my sister_?”

“We just wanted it to be _us_ for a while.” Jon admits sheepishly. “It was the same, but it was different. It was old, but brand new. And it was like nothing we’d ever felt it before.”

Robb tries to understand his thinking. “We’re you waiting to tell people, just in case you sorted all that out and the relationship didn’t turn into anything?”

“No, man.” Jon corrects, a tranquil look appearing on his face. “We both knew it was something. We know _It’s everything_. It’s real. And it’s not going anywhere.”

Robb smiles after a beat, cocking his head to the side. “So, I’d better get used to it?”

Jon chuckles. “Something like that.”

“You know,” Robb looks over to see that Sansa is now at the jukebox. “if you ever hurt her……I’ll tear your tongue out with a pair of pliers and feed it to Grey Wind.”

Jon jerks back, but smiles in appreciation. “Wow, that’s impressive. I was expecting ‘ _they’ll never find your body_ ’ or ‘ _I’ll_ _run you over with my car’._ But that is as specific as it is graphic.”

“If you can’t wax poetic about what you’ll do to a person who’d hurt your sister, when can you?” Robb and Jon both laugh and lift their glasses in a silent toast.

Sansa comes back to the table, kissing Robb on the crown of his head before she sits and kisses Jon on the cheek.

“Whadya pick?” Jon kisses her shoulder in return.

“Ed Sheeran for me. And……….” She puts her finger to her chin and pretends to ponder. “ _someone_ may have punched the button for ‘ _Sympathy for the Devil_ ’ for you.”

Jon happily ducks his head, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’re so good to me.”

 

 

The three of them leave the restaurant happy and laughing. Jon and Sansa walking down the sidewalk with their arms around it each other. Robb smiling thoughtfully at how good it looks on them.

Sansa sighs blissfully, tucking further into Jon’s side. “I have full-belly sleepiness.”

Jon chuckles, running a hand down her silky hair. “Let’s get you home.”

“Thanks for letting us have your leftover burger to give to Ghost, Robb.” Sansa moves them over so she can playfully ram into Robb’s side. “Might smooth things over. I didn’t let him sleep with us last night and now I think he’s mad at me.”

Jon kisses her temple. “Even if you _have_ taken over what used to be his side of the bed—Ghost loves you.”

“He always has.” Robb agrees, shivering and looking far ahead down the street. “God, I wish we’d found parking spaces closer to the restaurant………it’s freezing.”

“I know.” Jon blows into his hands to warm them. “And of course, I forget my gloves.”

“You always forget your gloves.” Sansa teases, stopping their walk and looking in her purse. “But what do we have……” she pulls out his black knit gloves with a flourish. “Oh my god, what are the odds?!!!”

Jon swings her in front of him, takes her face in his hands and kisses her soundly. He then kisses her fingers as he takes the gloves. “Thank you, Sansa.”

She beams at him, her smile warm enough that he might not need the gloves. “You’re welcome.”

Robb shakes his head, laughing to himself.

 

 

Driving home, Robb thinks about the past few days. Thinks about learning of Jon and Sansa’s relationship. Thinks about the dinner they just had. And the stiff strangeness he’d felt that had melted away in viewing the soft, comfortable, grateful contentment that passes between his sister and his best friend as easy as air.

He’s happy for them. He’ll help Sansa and Jon smooth things out with the rest of the family. He knows that once they all realize what Sansa and Jon have, everything will be okay. He used to worry that Sansa would wind up with someone who didn’t appreciate her. He worried the same about Jon. Guess he doesn’t have to worry about either anymore. It could be a lot worse than two people he loves…….loving each other.

And it’s still weird. Only, it’s not because of them.

He realizes it’s weird because of _him_. Because now he understands this didn’t come from out of nowhere. Now he understands something was there between them all along.

Like Bruce Willis in _The Sixth Sense_ , man………. Jon and Sansa _were dead the whole movie!_

And he just didn’t see it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Happy or Furious? Hugging or Fighting?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa tell Ned and Cat. With someone else lurking about.

Jon and Sansa walked side-by-side up the porch and stood before the front door of the Stark house. With each step, Jon thought about how he’d walked them a thousand times.

After sophomore year of college, Cat had told him he didn’t need to ring the bell anymore—‘ _just walk right on in’._ After junior year—and Bran’s accident—when Jon and Robb had secured Summer as a service dog for Bran, Cat had given him his own key. Jon and Robb had adopted Ghost and Grey Wind from the same litter, and the overwhelming consensus within the Stark family was that Bran’s dog shouldn’t be separated from his brothers for very long. So, Jon had volunteered to round up Ghost and Grey Wind three times a week to visit Summer.

Cat and Ned often came home at the end of the day to find Jon in the backyard, holding court over the three Siberan Huskies as they ran, played, howled, and wrestled. Happy to just be dogs for a while.

It wasn’t unusual to see Jon in the driveway near the basketball hoop, helping Rickon with his layups. Or to find the old Chevy gone from the garage while Jon and Robb were teaching Rickon to drive. (also while attempting to teach Sansa and Arya to drive stickshift— _attempting_ being the operative word)

He had helped Robb and Ned remodel the powder room and closet in the downstairs study into a handicapped bathroom, and the study into an accessible suite for Bran. Just a year ago, he had replaced the twin bed with a king bed for when Bran and Meera came home on school breaks.

There was perhaps no inch of that house, that whole property, on which he had not left a fingerprint.

It has been years now that he’s walked right on in. Years now that he’s felt more at home in the Stark house than sometimes in his own. Yet in that moment, standing before the red front door of the shingled craftsman house, he felt a strange urge to ring the bell. He reached towards it.

“What are you doing?” Sansa tugged on his hand as she stood beside him.

He pulled his finger back. “I……I’m not sure.” He chuckled lowly and ran a hand through his curls. “I feel like a stranger. Like I’ve done something wrong and I’ve come to ask for forgiveness.”

She put her hand on his upper arm and turned him to face her. “You’ve done NOTHING wrong, Jon.” She put her forehead to his. “Believe me. And we’re just here to inform them—not to ask permission, not to do penance.” She tugged on a curl of his hair and beamed brightly at him. “They already love you. But trust me, once they see how good you are to me, you’ll be their absolute favorite person in the whole world.”

“Well,” He wrapped his arms around her and slid his hand to the small of her back. “I’m not _always_ good to you.” He smirked devilishly, hand slipping a little lower. “Sometimes, when you’ve been a very _bad girl_ —“

“Yeah,” She giggled and playfully swatted his hand away, “let’s not tell them about _those times_.” She turned them both back to the door. “Come on, we’ll just rip it off like a band-aid.”

He took her hand in his. “It’ll be fine.”

She took the knob in her hand and turned it.

The foyer of the Stark house was usually very chaotic—with coats, assorted bags, dog leashes and shoes piled up beside the door, footfalls sounding down the staircase and through the hallways, and the sounds of individual lives somehow grafting together to perform a symphony. Today was no different.

Jon had already let Ghost into the yard through the fence’s side door, so the sound of his and Summer’s barking drifted in through the back. The lightly melodic soundtrack of a romantic-comedy film was floating in from the family room, and the thumping bass of Rickon’s grunge-metal music made the floors practically vibrate from upstairs.

“Hello?” Sansa’s sweet voice called out tentatively.

Margaery bounded in from the family room, a shimmering sphere of pleasantness. “Oh hey!” She smiled widely and gave a little wave. “I’m just here to pick up your mom’s shepherd’s pie recipe to surprise Robb for our anniversary next week.”

“Oh yeah,” Sansa smiled tightly, kissing her cheek. “I’d forgotten about that. Two years!”

“Congratulations!” Jon added tensely, smiling too.

“Thanks.” Margaery bounced on the balls of her feet, nodding towards the kitchen. “Whatever you’re here for, don’t expect much out of your mom,” she affectionately rolled her eyes. “The Stark kitchen is in an uproar—her hospital pot-luck is tomorrow and she’s frantically fixing her hot-dish. She’s even got your dad on the line chopping veggies while she simmers and stirs.”

“Oh,” Sansa paled and her eyes widened, unconsciously backing toward the door. “maybe this isn’t the best time to do this.”

Jon tugged on her hand that he was still holding and pulled her back beside him. “No, we’re doing this _now_. We can’t put it off any longer.”

Margaery narrowed her eyes at their behavior. “What are you guys talking abou—” She then glanced down to Jon and Sansa’s clasped hands, and quirked her perfectly groomed eyebrow at Sansa. “I _see_.”

“Yeah.” Sansa brought her hand twined with Jon’s up to her chest.

“Is this what Robb and Bran have been whispering to each other—but can’t tell me about?” Margaery gave her crooked smirk. “And Arya has been fuming over?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Arya fumes over a great many things, and I can never keep track.” She heaved a great sigh. “But so far as I know. Those three are the only ones who know about us.”

“Well,” Jon anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. “Ned and Cat will know in about two minutes.”

“Hmm. _This_ should be interesting.” Margaery pointed at Jon and Sansa’s still-clasped hands. “Might make what Robb and I went through after we got together seem……..almost boring.”

“Oh yeah,” Sansa chuckled, narrowing her eyes. “Breaking up Robb and his fiancée after he met you when he came into your flower shop to buy a Valentine’s bouquet _for said fiancée._ ”

Jon chuckled too. “Although, it did help you out that Roslin was a stone-cold, superficial, gold-digging bitch who treated Robb like crap. And the family was glad to be rid of her.”

“Well, I’m off to call your brother and yell at him for not letting me in on your secret. But whatever happens in there…..” Margaery nodded to the kitchen. “I gotta say, Snow,” she walked back to the family room, shouting behind her, “you’re a hell of a lot better than some waste-of-space boyfriend Sansa could pick up at the gym!”

“Thanks,” Jon snickered lightly, looking over to see Sansa shrugging. “I think.”

 

 

 

“Darling?” Cat began agitatedly, looking around over the steam of her boiling pots. “Do you still have the paprika?”

“Yes, love. It’s right here.” Ned replied calmly, waving the spice bottle. “I was using it to dust the carrots.”

“Ned, if you’re done with it,” she scolded slightly from her place at the stove, looking at him from across the kitchen. “please put it back in the spice rack, so I don’t constantly have to be looking for it!”

He left his spot at the cutting board and put the bottle back in the rack, kissing her cheek lightly. “Yes, dear.”

Sansa cleared her throat from the doorway and spoke up with a tremor in her voice. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.”

They both turned their heads to catch a moment’s glimpse of her. “Hello, sweetling! It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.” Ned smiled brightly at her before refocusing all his attention to his un-chopped vegetables. “Fellowship taking up all your time, I suppose.”

Sansa gulped, walking into the kitchen and pulling Jon with her. “Uh, partly.”

“Sweetheart, we’d love to sit down for a chat,” Cat huffed, lifting a lid to check on its contents. “But when they were assigning who did what for the potluck tomorrow—the social work department drew the entrées.” She brushed a sweaty section of her bangs from her forehead. “Can you believe it? I know we don’t revive people, or diagnose illnesses—but we save just as many lives as anyone else at that hospital! We work just as hard—ten, twelve hour days and NO overtime—and then we’re expected to come home and make hot entrees for fifty people? Of all the inconsiderate—“

“Cat, love.” Ned soothed, not looking up from his chopping block. “You’re getting worked up again.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Sansa looked to Jon for what to do and he shook his head and shrugged.

“And Lord Snow is here too! Sansa catch you on the walk in, did she?” Ned spoke without looking up. “How are you, Jon?”

Jon cleared his throat. “I’m fine, Mr. Stark.”

“You haven’t called me Mr. Stark in five years, Jon.” Ned chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Why are you suddenly doing it n……….” He trailed off, the knife stilling in his hand, when he looked up to find Jon pressed against Sansa’s side with his right arm around her waist. “Oh…… _well_ …….”

Sansa began in a panic. “Dad, I…we didn’t mean to—“ she halted immediately when her father held up a gentle hand.

Ned cocked his head to the side, chuckling lowly. “I imagine this is why we haven’t seen much of you _either_ lately, Jon?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, quit with the ‘ _Mr. Stark’_ , bit.” Ned waved his hand dismissively, turning to his wife as she still stirred, simmered and basted. “Cat, love? Let’s take a break for a minute, so we can sit with Sansa and Jon.”

“Ned, are you out of your mind?! I don’t have time to—“ she finally turned just in time to see Jon’s palm tenderly cupping Sansa’s terrified face. Her hand dropped the ladle back into the pot and her mouth fluttered open like a dying fish, before she croaked out, “What….what is….what is this?”

Ned walked to her, placing a hand on her back. “Let’s the four of us sit down, yeah?”

They all walked to the large, reclaimed-oak table that sat before an enormous bay window, looking out onto the sprawling backyard and two frolicking dogs. They sat in silence for a few moments which felt like all to be an eternity.

“Before we start—are you in trouble?” Ned’s voice was neutral, yet calming. “Sansa, are you pregn—“

“No! Of course not.” She practically yelped.

“You come in here, looking scared out of your minds…….” he held up a hand that was somehow placating and scolding at the same time. “It’s not an unreasonable thing to think.”

“I’m not pregnant, Dad.”

“Alright,” he folded his hands on the tabletop. “Tell us.”

Sansa took a deep breath, and on the exhale rambled out, “Jon and I have been seeing each other for five weeks, and I’ve given notice with my landlord so I can move into Jon’s house.”

“Our house.” Jon corrected softly, looking at Ned and Cat. “We’re going to live together.”

Maybe it was just the deafening shock felt by all four at the words finally being uttered, but suddenly, the house fell into an eerie calm. It remained for several _very_ long moments, until the clatter of Cat’s chair being hurriedly pushed back cut through the stillness.

She covered her face with her hands and stood determinedly. The other three gulped as Cat began pacing back and forth, chuckling to herself. “ _Well_ …..this is just……” she walked over to Sansa, still sitting in her chair.

“What is this? What are we doing?” Sansa began uncertainly, her eyes widening as Cat placed both hands on Sansa’s shoulders. “Are you happy or furious? Are we hugging or fighting?”

Cat shook her head, still chuckling to herself. “None of it. All of it.” She exhaled loudly.

“Cat, honey.” Ned spoke softly, rising slightly from his chair. “Let’s sit back down.”

Cat shooed him away distractedly, her eyes darting between Sansa and Jon. “Is this a fling, a phase? Or are you two in love?”

“Yes.” Sansa replied.

“No.” Jon replied simultaneously.

They both looked at each other in shock. “What do you mean ‘ _No’_?” “What do you mean ‘ _Yes’_?”

Sansa shook her head and continued firmly, certainly. “No, to the first part. Yes, to the second.”

Jon nodded, his eyes catching Cat’s. “ _Emphatically_ yes to the second part.”

Cat glanced back to Ned as she sat on the edge of the table. “And to clarify your earlier query, Ned, darling.” She stared pointedly at her daughter. “They both looked scared out of their minds because they’ve hidden the relationship from us for……..what was it, Sansa, sweetling…….. _five weeks_?”

Sansa and Jon both bit their lips and lowered their heads as an answer.

“And why was that?”

Sansa looked back up to the ceiling in frustration. “We just wanted it to be us for a while.”

“Were you ashamed of the relationship?” Ned asked carefully.

Jon and Sansa’s answer was prompt and resolute. “No.”

Cat’s eyebrow quirked. “Were you ashamed of us?”

A silence hung in the air as the question remained unanswered. Jon pointedly looked to Sansa, his eyes begging her to speak, but all she did was put her elbow on the table and drop her head in her hands, letting out a deep sigh.

“Sansa Lyarra Stark!” Cat admonished loudly.

“It’s not like that!” Sansa defended quickly. “I’m not _ashamed_ of you, but…..but….”

Cat rose from the edge of the table and put her hands on her hips. “But what?”

“Everything that comes before ‘ _but_ ’ is horseshit, dear girl.” Ned added with an amused glint to his eyes.

Sansa stood indignantly. “You can’t really fault us for wanting to avoid the Smothering Swarm of Stark for as lon—“

Cat’s jaw dropped to the floor. “The ‘ _Smothering Swarm of St--_ -‘……….. you mean the people who LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU?!!!”

Sansa began to sputter. “You…..you all…..I mean _we all_ ….we—“

“We WHAT?” Cat finally yelled.

Sansa yelled back. “We intrude!”

“We do NOT intrude!”

“ _YES, WE DO_!” A firm, but gentle voice shouted from around the corner.

“Thank you, Margaery!” Sansa shouted back to the hallway, grateful to have someone agreeing with her declaration.

“Margaery Tyrell-Stark!” Cat shouted to the hallway as well. “If you’re going to be listening to the conversation, you might as well come in and officially be a part of it.”

Margaery walked in the kitchen looking embarrassed, but Cat smirked genuinely, crossing her arms. “ _You_ think we intrude?”

“Of course, I do.” Margaery answered immediately. “And I can say that so matter-of-factly because I’m one of you now, and I do it too! Most of the time, the fact that all the Starks are interested and involved in each other’s lives is _actually very nice_. But when a situation is new, and you don’t even have all the answers _yourself_? All the questions and the quote unquote _help,_ from the Smothering Swarm of Stark is just like……..” she held her head in her hands. “…… _oh my god, leave me alone_!”

Cat’s arms dropped limply to her sides and her eyes narrowed, looking to everyone. “This ‘ _Smothering Swarm of Stark_ ’ is actually something you _all_ say?”

“We do.”

“We do.”

“We do.”

“We do.” Ned finished, looking to her apologetically. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t think the phrase would catch on as well as it did when I coined it.”

“Eddard Stark!” Cat admonished.

“I get _eighteen_ personal family calls at work a day.” Ned told her frankly. “That’s in a _single day_ , Cat. And a peaceful day at that. I can’t imagine it’s any less with you at your work.”

Cat chewed her lip. “No, no it’s not.”

Ned stood from his chair and rested his hands on Cat’s shoulders. “I love that we all love each other, and want to be there for each other, and are interested in each other’s lives. That’s the family I always dreamed of. And always want us to be.” He smiled contritely and kissed her temple. “But sometimes it feels like a bit much.”

“It’s not that bad!” Cat shook her head in refusal, craning her head to look at Sansa, Jon, and Margaery. “Would you rather we not care about you _at all_?!”

“Of course not!” Margaery and Jon answered at the same time.

Sansa stomped to the other side of the table. “It’s just a lot to deal with, Mom. Every family dinner is times six. Every phone call is times six. Everyone always having their say and their fingers in each other’s lives is times six. And with _new_ relationships? It’s like…………“

Margaery chuckled, continuing on Sansa’s train of thought. “Sansa was telling me once about the Spanish Inquisition and some of the ways they got people to talk, and I remembered thinking— ‘ _the Starks could have run that thing LIKE A BOSS if they’d lived in medieval times and the heretics were new people they brought to family dinners_ ’.”

“Technically,” Sansa lifted her index finger. “the Spanish Inquisition was during the Renaissance, since Isabella of Castile formed it in 1478 to combat the…….” she trailed off when she viewed the blank stares of those around her. “yeah, not important to the conversation.”

Jon spoke finally. “I was there for all of the meet-the-family dinners Margaery, Gendry and Meera went through. We all made it a little tough even for _Shireen_ —and she was _fourteen_ when Rickon first brought her home!” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Sansa and I both just dreaded the questions, the prying, and the awkwardness that would be compounded by me already practically being a member of the family.”

“Seriously.” Margaery quirked a brow at Cat. “Even _I_ don’t wanna think about how that dinner would go.”

“We should have been upfront with you, we know that. We owed you that much.” Sansa admitted to both her parents, with love and gratitude in her eyes. “But Jon and I are what’s most important to each other now. And we owed ourselves a little time so that all the other questions didn’t drown out the most important answer.”

“The only answer Sansa and I knew in the beginning was that _we loved each other._ ” Jon stated firmly, calmly. “And the first few weeks we didn’t have answers to any of the _other_ questions we might have been asked.”

Ned furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side. “And you have those answers now?”

“Yes,” Jon nodded, then shrugged dismissively. “But we also realize that none of those other questions _even matter_.”

Cat turned to look at Ned and affectionately shook her head. He let out a soft chuckle and smiled. “They’re in love. Whadaya gonna do?”

Sansa calmly moved to stand before her mother. “Mom, I know you know that Jon is a good man. And I know you want what’s best for me. Well— _Jon is it_.” She smiled at both her parents. “That fellowship? I got it because I took Jon with me to a faculty dinner, and I felt comfortable and confident enough with him at my side…….that I could just be myself.”

Jon grinned. “And they loved her for it.”

“It’s like I allow myself to be better when I’m with him.” Sansa sat and put her hand on top of Jon’s as it rested on the table. “I _am_ better. I’m happier, I’m freer, I believe in myself more.”

“She does the same for me, Cat.” Jon twined Sansa’s fingers with his own and smiled at Cat and Ned. “I think she’s the most amazing woman—but I’m also amazed at how I feel about myself, knowing that she loves me. I feel like I can conquer the world.” His chest rumbled with a quiet laugh. “But then, I know even if I never do—if all the world will ever hold for me is my life, my job, my little house, my little yard—that’ll be great too……….because she’ll be there with me.”

Ned chuckled softly, ducking his head. “The two of you are destined to lead great lives, no matter what you do. Now you’ll just lead them together.”

“Mom, I feel like how you must feel,” Sansa looked at her mother hopefully. “with Dad.”

Cat let her eyes drift shut and she smiled. “Well,” her eyes opened again to find Ned gazing into them, and she rested her forehead against his. “I can’t imagine how any reasonable person could argue with that.”

Ned grinned and wrapped his arms around his wife. “Quite right.”

Cat pointed her index finger at the other three. “But calling our family the ‘ _Smothering Swarm of Stark’_.…..that ends right now!”

 

 

 

 


	4. Sugared Lemons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost is the first to know of Jon and Sansa's new relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, ya'll. Real Life has been such a freakin' BITCH lately and I've been away from the fandom for over a month! I'm trying to read up on the fics I've missed, but that may not ever happen!
> 
> Typed this up on some lunch breaks at work, just to see if I haven't lost my touch.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

I was _this close_ to getting the squirrel.

It’s too bad. Damn thing has been taunting me—skittering along top of my fence and leaping from one of my trees to the other—and it would have been nice to taste victory….and squirrel meat.

But it’s probably a good thing, too. If I’d actually gotten it, Daddy wouldn’t have let me in bed with freshly killed varmint on my chops.

So, while my nemesis the squirrel lives to torment me another day, I take small solace in the fact I get to sleep on a thick comforter with fluffy pillows, and drift off to the sounds of old movies flickering on the television that Daddy always forgets to turn off.

I come in the house through the doggy-door and climb up the stairs, only to find total darkness instead of the flickering TV. And I wonder if Daddy is even home—he went out earlier with Summer and Grey Wind’s aunt, the redhead lady with soft hands who always smells like sugared lemons.

Daddy was nervous, trying on two different jackets and three pairs of pants as I watched him get dressed from the foot of the bed. And Redhead Lady was anxiously pacing the floor when we came back downstairs. I couldn’t figure out why. _Geez, guys_. _She’s just Redhead Lady. He’s just Daddy. You’ve always been real comfortable around each other before._

They always laugh and smile, naturally drifting toward the other. When all the humans and all the dogs get together to barbeque in the big backyard of the loud house with the red front door, I can see how happy they are just to be around each other. Daddy and Redhead Lady always sit together and talk….sometimes I have to bark to get Daddy’s attention because they act like they are the only two people in the backyard—when in fact there is a dog who’d very much like to play fetch.

_Hello? If you’re gonna own a dog—own a dog. Don’t half-ass it._

I investigate the total darkness further only to find Daddy’s scent. His clothes are thrown all over the floor. He’s usually not such a slob, but he must have been tired when he got home. Also, Redhead Lady must have left her coat here, because I smell sugared lemons on the floor too. Oh well.

I listen for Daddy’s breathing and hear his slight snoring, so I pad over to my side of the bed and jump up quickly, only to find a soft, warm lump curled up in my spot.

A soft, warm lump that’s smells like sugared lemons. _DADDY! You dawg!_

He hasn’t had a girl in his bed for a long time. Not since the wild blonde lady who laughed too loud and smoked cigarettes. I didn’t like her in the bed. Even if you don’t smoke in the bed, if you’re a smoker—come on, let’s face it, you _smell like smoke_ —the smell gets on the sheets. Daddy had to burn those sheets…..along with a few other things wild blonde lady gave him. Come to think of it, that relationship might not have ended that well.

Sugared lemons certainly smell better than cigarette smoke. And Redhead Lady’s laugh is gentle and sweet. Come to think of it…..I’ve always liked Redhead Lady. And the fact that she feeds me little pieces of hamburger at the barbeques certainly doesn’t hurt my affections. At Christmas, she also got me, Summer and Grey Wind doggy-bones that tasted like peanut-butter. Yum.

Yep, Redhead Lady is alright.

Still doesn’t mean I’m putting up with her taking my side of the bed.

I nudge her back with my paws. No movement at all. _Rude_. I nudge her shoulder with my nose. She jostles slightly and reaches out a hand to gently, sleepily pat my head _. Normally I’d lean into your soft hands and whine happily, lady. But that ain’t gonna get me my side of the bed back_. Time to pull out the big guns.

I pad up to the pillow and with wild abandon, cover her neck and jaw with big sloppy licks. She awakens slowly, flinching away from my wagging tongue. “Ghost!” She sighs and begins to chuckle lowly, nudging Daddy with her elbow. “Jon, either Ghost is _really_ happy about us getting together” She begins to lightly scratch behind my ears, undermining my efforts to torment her “………or he’s using the Siberian Huskie Tongue Torture method to get his side of the bed back.”

_Huh. You’re getting off easy, chick. Be glad my mouth doesn’t smell of fresh-killed squirrel._

Daddy stirs and lifts his head from the pillow, squinting at the two of us. _Come on, Daddy. Be strong. Don’t give in to this temptress who wants the side of the bed that is rightfully mine. Even if she does smell good, and feed me pieces of hamburger, and have soft hands that are at this very moment petting me very nicely._

Of course, Daddy folds like a cheap suit. “Come on, Ghost.” He groans, pushing my head away. “Stop it.”

I stop my licking, only to sit up and put my paws on her shoulder, trying to gently roll her away as I whine in the sweet puppy way that usually gets me what I want. Not this time.

“Ghost!” Daddy takes my collar and tugs softly. “Come on, buddy. Go downstairs and sleep on the couch.”

_The couch? Fuck the what? I think NOT._

“Oh come on, Jon.” Redhead Lady leans over to place a kiss on Daddy’s bare chest. “He can stay.”

“Sansa, the bed is not that big. And Ghost sprawls out like a…….well like a sixty pound Siberian Huskie. You and I would end up sleeping on top of each other.”

Redhead Lady bites her lip and smiles wickedly. “I’m waiting for the negative in that scenario.”

Daddy cups the back of her neck and runs his tongue along her lips until she opens them and lets it inside. _Ew, Daddy. Humans do that to each other too?_

“Nope, he goes to the couch. Because of the dog, we are now both wide awake. I plan on taking advantage of that.” He drawls out as his mouth moves down to her neck and his hands move _deep_ under the blankets. “And I’m gonna need the whole damn bed for all the things I have planned for you.”

“Ghost!” Redhead Lady suddenly, excitedly, and loudly commands. “Get off the bed and go sleep on the couch!”

Then Daddy and Redhead Lady begin rolling around on top of each other, nipping at the other’s skin. Kinda like how Grey Wind and I do when we play—only……..okay, no……… _that part_ Grey Wind and I definitely _don’t_ do to each other.

I _temporarily_ admit defeat—and also admit there are some things a dog just doesn’t want to see—slinking off the bed with my head hung low as I pad out of the room to the sound of soft moans and gentle laughter.

 

 

I’m condemned to the sofa every night after that. And after five days, I have to face the reality of the situation—Redhead Lady seems to be around for good. On the seventh day, Daddy comes in the door carrying a big box, with Redhead Lady following a few steps behind carrying several bags.

They let me out into the backyard to play for a little while, then call me back in and lead me up the stairs to the landing next to Daddy’s bedroom door. Where they make a big deal of presenting me with a _huge_ pillow resting in the corner.

I plant myself down on the hardwood floor and cock my head to the side, giving a soft grunt and looking at them in total disbelief. Because, while I am _fully aware_ that the offending object is indeed a doggy-bed…….. _I know you ain’t trying to give that thing to me._

Daddy can see my disdain for the admittedly very comfortable-looking object and sighs. “Come on, Ghost. We wanted you to have your own bed, instead of just sleeping on the couch.” He scratches behind my ears and pets down my flank. “We got the best one in the whole pet store. And Sansa even brought over some of her old blankets for you. They’re real warm and soft.”

Redhead Lady kneels beside me and strokes the top of my head. “I’m sorry I took your side of the bed, Ghost. But if there’s ever a night I’m not in the bed, you can sleep next to Jon.”

She smiles softly, genuinely, and my insides melt. Geez, no wonder Daddy caved on the whole bed thing. ‘Cause I have to admit—she’s nice to have around.

“And if there’s ever a night Jon’s not in the bed, you can sleep next to me.”

“Come on, Ghost.” Jon pats the bed invitingly and I reluctantly make my way over. “It’s real nice. And it’ll be just outside our door.”

I nuzzle his face and whine softly _. Yeah, but how will I know if something bad happens to you? Who will watch over you?_

Redhead Lady comes over beside me and leans in, “Don’t worry, Ghost.” I allow her to kiss my nose. “I’ll take good care of Jon.”

Damn, she’s good. Alright, I know a lost cause when I see one. And it’s not exactly a no-win. The bed does look very comfy, and probably bigger than what my side of the bed usually ends up being, after bed-hog Daddy gets done with it.

I put my paws on top of it, pleased when they meet pliant luxury, and then plop the rest of me down into the center of the bed with a furry thud and a contented whimper.

I’m left alone to take my afternoon nap, burying my nose into the blankets that they’d laid over my new bed. As I begin to drift off, I take a deep breath, happiness tingling from my ears down to my paws when I realize the blankets smell like sugared lemons.

They smell like Mommy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. Comments and kudos are love.


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